He lifted his arms and lowered the corners of his mouth. Then he turned again to the military aspect of things, elaborating it.
The soldier in him finished:
“It is necessary, all the same, to admire these cursed Germans.”
“Admire them!” said his wife sharply. “I do not appreciate the necessity. When I think of that day and that night we spent at home!” They live in the eastern suburbs of the city. “When I think of that day and that night! The cannon thundering at a distance of ten kilometres!”
“Thirty kilometres, almost thirty, my friend,” the husband corrected.
“Ten kilometres. I am sure it was not more than ten kilometres, my friend.”
“But see, my little one. It was at Meaux. Forty kilometres to Meaux. We are at thirteen. That makes twenty-seven, at least.”
“It sounded like ten.”
“That is true.”
“It sounded like ten, my dear Arnold. All day, and all night. We could not go to bed. Had one any desire to go to bed? It was anguish. The mere souvenir is anguish.”